Unbreakable
by InsaneRedneck007
Summary: Colonel Blake Heller breaks the unbreakable recruits with questionable methods and an undying hate. But when two new recruits discover a dangerous secret about their CO, to what end will they go before they die?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This has taken me a while to write, as I'm quite busy with everything from school to Call of Duty. I want to ad a

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the A-Team, they own me. And Heller is a bad guy, not every CO in the Army is like him (take Hannibal, for example). I may have gotten some little details mixed up in this story, so please just bear with my and enjoy the ride while it lasts.

To clear things up, Heller's "Unit" isn't a regular Unit. Normal Units go out on missions and stuff (I think, all I have to go on is The A-Team), Heller basically breaks recruits and gives 'em to a real Unit.. I had no idea what to otherwise call his little group of broken individuals.

Ok, enough of me blabbing. Here's the story!

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Colonel Blake Heller was a name that most people would cringe at. He was the CO who could, who would, break anybody who had an attitude. Some of his methods were questionable, and half the time they didn't know what he was doing. But every time, he would do the job. Any cocky, annoying recruit whom no one else could handle would be completely submissive in a matter of weeks. And he loved seeing them break, he loved every moment of it.

Heller sat at his desk, reviewing files of the new recruits that were going to be sent to him today. There were two of them, and from the looks of things, he was going to have a lot of fun.

Private Templeton Peck, age twenty, was a sullen, completely annoying kid. He was an orphan, going through three foster homes. Apparently, crooks would use him for scams, then send him back to the orphanage, saying that he wasn't well behaved. He had gone through two CO's already, both saying that they couldn't handle his reckless behavior and disrespect to higher officers. He had an abandoned dog attitude, growling at anyone who dared to look his way and nearly killing anyone who laid his hands on him. The only reason the Army kept him was because, no matter what his faults, he did his job well. He was one of the best snipers and could handle himself in any fight.

Private Danielle Hawthorne, age twenty-one, was a girl with an attitude. She had no family and was raised by drug runners on the streets. A sarcastic rebel, she was only in the Army because it was either that or prison. She had gone through three CO's and had a record of being locked in the brig for assault. Fighting was something that came naturally to her and she easily could take down someone twice her size, plus she could shoot a target the size of a pine cone from half a mile away. She was only kept in the Army because of her reliability and aggression in the field.

Heller looked up as the chopper landed outside his tent. So, here were the recruits.

He got up and stepped outside, watching as the rotors died down and the two Privates stepped out.

Neither of them looked a day older than eighteen, let alone twenty and twenty-one. But, nevertheless, they were his recruits, and he was their new CO.

"Hawthorne. Peck. Come with me," he commanded as he headed towards his tent.

Both followed, and Heller sat in his desk chair, watching as both saluted.

"At ease," he said, his face blank as he mentally analyzed Hawthorne and Peck.

Hawthorne's chocolate brown hair was tied back into a bun, her face contorted into an amused smirk. Although she looked strictly military, the rebel in her steel blue eyes told otherwise. He eyes also told that she was excited about this new challenge.

Peck looked slightly annoyed, but otherwise his face was blank. A military crew cut made him look almost professional, and the relaxed posture of his body told he wasn't worried, that he thought he'd been through worse. Steel blue eyes were masked into nothing.

It was funny how they looked so alike, but weren't related.

"My rules are simple: if you don't address me as 'sir,' I will force you to do strenuous exercises until you do. If you try to fight me at all, you will be forced to run an obstical course. If you don't submit to my rules, you will be punished." Heller smiled in glee at the new victims of his Unit. "Privates Hawthorne and Peck, prepare for the worst time of your entire lives."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** I'm very happy right now, so I'm giving you an extra long chapter.

I apologize because I have a lot of stuff... well, wrong in this chapter. Heller would be fired fast if he did what he did in this chapter.

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Being forced to sleep outside, bedded in nothing but a single, rough Army blanket and sand didn't seem to bother either of the recruits. Getting shot at with paintball guns all night, under order of Heller, seemed to infuriate Hawthorne to the extent of getting up in the middle of the night with a growl and stomp off.

Amazingly, the next morning, someone discovered that the men shooting the guns were unconscious, tied and gagged. The guns were tampered with so as not to ever fire a paintball again, and Heller immediately turned to Hawthorne and Peck.

"Which one of you did it?" He screamed into Peck's face.

"I did it," Hawthorne said, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "I don't take kindly to anything firing at me. Especially when I'm sleeping."

"Oh, really? And aren't you missing something?" Heller asked, specifically thinking of the rule that they call him 'sir'.

She sneered. "Naw."

He grabbed the front of her shirt and then landed a punch in her stomach. She gasped for breath, then started laughing.

"What's so funny, Hawthorne?" He asked, punching her again in the stomach.

"Oh," she said, laughing. "The image in my head of what great parents you must have. I mean, they taught you to hit girls!"

He attempted at landing a punch again, but she blocked it and sent one of her own to his jaw. He, in turn, grabbed one of her arms and twisted it behind her back, making her freeze in place, else her arm would break.

"I am the law here," he growled in her ear. "I'm the only one you obey. I am your master! You're nothing but a filthy dog that I must whip into shape. Got that?"

She didn't respond, but only smirked.

"GOT THAT?!" Heller yelled in her ear, pushing harder on her arm.

"All I got is that you're a control freak who beats up girls and quotes old westerns," Hawthorne said, her smirk growing bigger.

"Are you forgetting something again?"

"Naw."

With a _crack_, Heller broke Hawthorne's arm and shoved her into the dirt.

"If you ever try to fight me again," Heller breathed, "then I will break your other arm. And if you 'forget' to call me 'sir,' again, then I will make you climb across the jungle gym. Come."

Peck stared curiously at Hawthorne, who cradled her broken arm, but smirked at him.

_Don't forget to say 'sir',_ she mouthed, and for the first time since enlisting, Peck smiled.

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Peck ran forward, allowing his anger to boil but keeping it suppressed enough that it wouldn't show.

He was exhausted, but he wouldn't show it if he could help it. It was nearly midnight, and he hadn't had a bite to eat all day. All he had to drink was a dixie cup full of water at noon, when the sun was at it's height.

Adrenaline, something he had trained himself to use when needed, was the only thing fueling him. He would've collapsed way earlier if it hadn't been there for him.

He had no idea how Hawthorne could manage doing this. She had impressed him, something that rarely happened. She had made it through the obstacle courses that most SEALs would have trouble doing, and the whole time she had a busted arm and was smirking like nobody's business. Peck just wanted to stay out of Heller's way, but she seemed to want to press his buttons and see how far she could push him.

Oh, well. It wasn't his problem, at least Heller's attention wasn't completely set on him.

Peck carefully swung his way across the monkey bars, then climbed up a set of floors until he was about forty feet in the air. He grabbed a rope that was extended over a pole, then grabbed it and crossed his ankles over it, carefully started inching down the rope, his speed slowly increasing. He wondered how Hawthorne would get through that one.

As soon as he got down from the rope onto another wooden platform, the moonlight revealed a lone figure appearing at the top of the rope. He watched as she took off her belt, then cinched it around her ankle. She lifted that leg over the rope and grabbed her belt with her good hand, then zipp-lined down the rope.

"Peck! Did I say you could stop moving?"

Peck growled and started forward again at a fast pace, hoping he wouldn't catch anything from his CO.

"Well? Did I?" Heller's voice rang out as he approached Peck.

"No, Sir," Peck growled out again just as Hawthorne landed on the platform. She continued to jog forward.

Heller stopped her. "You are supposed to climb down the rope, not zip line down it."

She gave him a smirk. "Well, with a broken arm, I didn't want to risk falling and squashing your sorry hopes of breaking me. And I don't recall any rules abo-"

Her shirt front was grabbed and Heller placed a punch in her stomach. She was prepared for it, though, and had already tensed her muscles to steel against the blow. Another smirk made Heller furious that he wasn't getting through to her, and he punched her again. She laughed, but Heller wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

"Both of you, hit the deck. I want fifty," Heller yelled at them, and both ducked to the ground and started their push-ups.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **People. I am hurt that no one has reviewed this story yet. Will someone please review? Anyone?

Yes, if you are wondering, I really have no life except writing. Reviews are my food, the more I get, the happier I am, the more chapters/stories I'll post. So. I would deeply appreciate a review. How about this: I post one chapter per day. For every three reviews I get, I will post another. Hmm, not sure if bribing you people will work, but it's worth a try.

Happy reading.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not sure if I'm supposed to add one of these at the beginning of each chapter or what. Anyway, I don't own the A-Team, they own me.

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Neither Peck nor Hawthorne were allowed to sleep that night. They were allowed to stand up against a post and rest, but they were forbidden to sleep and they were forbidden to talk to each other.

Hawthorne didn't seem to mind the condition, as she was forced to stand up on street corners for long periods of time at night waiting for a customer to buy drugs. Peck seemed to be slightly annoyed, but didn't seem to care as he relaxed his mind and allowed at least that to rest.

The night passed slowly, with both of the recruits fighting to stay awake. When morning came, they were exhausted, but were still forced to run three miles at 5:00 AM.

They were given a small meal for breakfast, which they threw up an hour after eating. Nevertheless, they were both pushed in their workouts.

At least today, instead of running courses, they were sharpening their shooting skills. If they missed a target, they were forced to run a obstacle course, but since they were nearly perfect, they didn't have to so much.

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Danielle closed one eye and peered through her scope at the target, which was approximately two thirds of a mile away and the size of a pine cone. It was a challenge.

But she loved challenges.

Like that new, abusive CO. Sure, she had a broken arm that needed to be treated, and she probably had a couple of broken ribs, too. But how far could she push him? It was going to be a great game.

Yep. She loooved challenges.

Back to the target. She knew she could hit it, and carefully pushed all other thoughts away as she scrutinized it.

Her finger slowly closed in on the trigger, and a sonic _boom_ erupted as the target fell over. She smirked to herself, silently congratulating herself on the shot.

"You did well, but not well enough. Hit the deck and give me fifty."

Hawthorne rolled her eyes as she rolled away from her gun, then tucked her broken arm behind her back as she did fifty one-handed push-ups.

As soon as she finished, Heller kicked her in the ribs, causing her to roll over onto her back. She chuckled, quite aware that he was probably going to kill her before she broke.

She was looking forward to it.

Tenderly, she stood up and glanced over at Peck. He seemed to be holding his own, rebellious enough to growl, but trying to stay out of Heller's fist. Danielle could tell that he was hiding behind a shell, just as she was. Strangely, she felt a connection to him... something she'd never felt to anyone else before.

"Look at me!"

She turned to Heller, her face twisted into a content smile. "Yes?"

Heller snarled and punched her stomach, probably cracking a rib. "Run the obstacle course now!"

She sighed and jogged off, her good arm wrapped tightly around her ribs, her bad arm hanging limply by her side. It was a good mile to the course, and it would be a tortuous run.

She kept running, her muscles burning and her ribs aching. Pushing the pain away, she kept persevering down the road.

"Private!"

She stopped, certain that the voice was directed at her. It wasn't Heller's voice, though, so who was it?

She turned to the direction of the voice and saw a nearly grey-haired Lieutenant marching up to her.

_Oh, shoot, _she thought as she stood up erectly as possible with her broken ribs. "Yes, Sir!"

"What's wrong with you?" The man asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

"Sir?" she asked, confused, taking a glance at his name patch. Smith.

"You're slouched. You look like your ribs are broken, and your arm looks like it definitely is."

"I'm fine, sir," Hawthorne replied, her tone hard and definite.

He chuckled. "Uh-huh. You mind me checking that?"

"Sir. I said I was fine, and my CO just commanded me to-"

"A CO can't come between a recruit and the recruits health," the man said. "So either you go to the infirmary right now or I'll drag you there myself."

A barely noticable growl escaped Hawthorne's lips, and she began to walk away.

"Private. Stop."

She didn't, but continued to walk forward.

The Lieutenant stalked forward and grabbed her shoulder. "I gave you an-"

Before he knew what was happening, she had flipped him onto the ground. He climbed up with a growl.

"I don't want to fight you," Hawthorne snarled, "but I will if I have to. Now get off my case."

She turned around and started to walk away. Smith slowly climbed up, then got close enough to punch her back.

"What the-" She exclaimed, scrambling to get up. Unfortunately, she found that she couldn't move anything.

Smith chuckled as he pulled her up into a fireman's carry. "I've studied a bit of martial arts, and I know where a pressure point is. I've just hit yours, and you won't be going anywhere for a couple of minutes."

Hawthorne growled, resigned for the moment as the Lieutenant started to carry her to the medical tent.

"I've seen you out there with Heller," the Lieutenant finally said. "It's not legal to abuse you or Peck like that."

"I can take it," Hawthorne said.

"They all say that before they break," Smith said as he neared the med tent. "Just like your arm. You think you can take it, but eventually, it'll hurt worse and worse until you won't be able to move it. Then you're going to give in, and it won't be a pretty sight."

Hawthorne mulled these words over as Smith was directed by a nurse to lay her down in a bed. Within ten minutes, her arm was broken again and re-set, then put in a cast. Her ribs were taped up, and she was set to go with instructions to stay off-duty and take prescribed painkillers.

Like that was going to happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to Cat414 for giving the first review! People, please review. How else am I going to know if you like it or not? I can't read minds. Thanks for reading this, though.

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Peck groaned as he lowered himself to the ground from the wooden stand, slowly beginning to jog towards Heller. The punishments for answers he didn't know were pretty awful.

"Where is she?" Heller asked, his tone sharp and dangerous.

"I told you, I don't know. We haven't ev-"

Peck's words were cut off by his arm being twisted behind his back. He let out another groan, this one more from the pain than from the exhaustion. He really didn't want a broken arm.

"I asked you a question, and I want the right answer," Heller growled in his ear.

"I... I don't know," Peck said, trying to keep himself under control.

"Oh, yeah? I bet you do," Heller said, pushing Peck's arm up further into his back. "Where. Is. She?"

"Right over here."

Heller turned to see Hawthorne standing there, a smirk on her face. Her arm was wrapped in a cast, and her stiff posture told she had had her ribs wrapped.

"Where did you go?" Heller barked, releasing Peck and stalking menacingly towards her.

Her smirk stayed in place, even as Heller towered over her, his gaze fearfully angry.

"The med tent. A Lieutenant took me there."

"Oh, yeah? And which Lieutenant is this?" Heller growled.

She gave him a maniacal grin. "Smith."

Heller's eyes tightened with more anger, but a glimmer of fear shone in his eyes. Hawthorne noticed, and she smiled.

Heller, infuriated by the lack of fear in Hawthorne, shoved her onto the ground. He then proceeded to kick her ribs, causing her to curl up into herself.

He finally stopped and stomped away with an order for Peck to be at the Mess in half an hour, and an order that Hawthorne stay on the obstacle course.

Peck stared curiously at Hawthorne, with a tinge of worry in his expression. As soon as Heller left, he walked over to Hawthorne and knelt down next to her.

"You ok?" He asked, realizing that this was the first time that he'd ever spoken to her.

"Yep... fine and dandy," she said, gasping a little as Peck helped her up.

"You don't look it," Peck said as he pointed out the blood on her form.

She looked down at her bloodstained clothes, realizing that her nose must've busted when Heller was kicking her. She gingerly touched it.

"My nose is broken. Can you set it?" She asked.

He shrugged, then reached out and gave a sharp tug in her nose. Hawthorne let out a muffled yelp, then relaxed. "Thanks."

Peck nodded. "So... you got any family?"

"No. I was raised in foster care all the way until I enlisted," Hawthorne said. "You?"

Peck laughed a little, rubbing his hand along the base of his neck. "That's wierd, 'cause that's the same way I grew up."

Hawthorne gave a pained smile to Peck. "Alright, then. I'm off to the course. See you in a while?"

Peck smiled. "See you in a little while."

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Hannibal carefully walked into the tent towards Hawthorne's bunk, stopping as he stood in front of it. He took the key out of his pocket and unlocked her trunk, pulling a hairbrush out with a smile. He plucked a couple of hairs from it, then set it back in place and locked the trunk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** This chapter is all about Facey, Facey, Facey. And the grand entrance of our favorite pilot. :)

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Hannibal walked into the Mess Hall, pouring himself a cup of coffee and looking around, trying to find Peck.

Hannibal finally located him sitting at a table, and walked over.

"Hey," Hannibal said, sitting next to Peck. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Hannibal didn't miss the soft, nearly covered up growl as the kid looked up at him.

"I'd be miserable company," Peck said, sipping his coffee and looking Hannibal in the eye.

_Honesty. Good trait,_ Hannibal thought as he sipped some of his own coffee. "Misery loves company."

The kid gave a low, humorless chuckle. "Look around. Does anybody else seem to want to be around me?"

Hannibal had already noticed that the other recruits had been avoiding the kid, and some were sending sympathetic looks towards him.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not everyone, kid." Hannibal said. "So. What's it like to be in Heller's Unit?"

Peck took another sip of his drink, then scrutinized Hannibal, as if wondering what to make of him. "As if you really cared." Hannibal leaned forward. "Kid, you don't want to mess with me. I asked you a question. Answer it."

Peck paused, scrutinising Hannibal again, then shrugged. "I've been in worse."

"Such as?"

"You know what? This conversation is over," said Peck as he stood, leaving his coffee on the table. "I'm leaving."

"You don't really have a choice in the matter, _Private_," Hannibal said, emphasizing the younger man's rank to remind him that he was in command. "Sit down."

"No, _Sir_." Peck spat as he began to walk towards the exit of the tent.

Hannibal stood up and stalked over to him, grabbing the younger man's shoulder. "I just gave you an order, Private."

"Don't touch me," Peck said in a low, dangerous growl. He pivoted on his heel and brought his boot into Hannibal's shin, causing the Lieutenant to fall onto his knee.

By now, the whole tent was watching the faceoff between the Lieutenant and the Private.

Hannibal easily rolled to the side, then jumped to his feet. He roundhoused the Private's face, or, at any rate, almost did. The Private dodged the kick and brought his fist into Hannibal's stomach- until Hannibal blocked the hit and twisted Peck's arm behind his back.

Hannibal shoved Peck face-first into a table, causing a slight wince to come from the Private.

"You never, _ever_ attack a higher officer!" Hannibal growled into Peck's ear as he slammed the Private's face into the table again.

"Do I look like I care?" Peck growled from the table.

"Well, you'd better start caring!" Hannibal yelled at him. "Hurting people doesn't get you anywhere in life!"

"Tell that to Heller," Peck growled.

Hannibal was slightly taken aback by this statement, and he released enough pressure from Peck's arm for the Private to slither free and bolt for the exit.

Hannibal watched as Peck ran, and knew that the Private wasn't just running from himself .

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Peck ran long and hard, not caring where his feet took him. He had a great sense of direction and could find his way back easily enough- if he ever decided to come back.

Memories clouded his mind, and most likely his judgement. Foster parents beating him, forcing him beyond the breaking point. Heller was one of them.

_"Hurting people doesn't get you anywhere in life!"_

Anybody he trusted turned on him, anyone he didn't trust beat him to a pulp. What was the point of life, anyway?

Peck was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he didn't realize he ran into a man until he was laying on the ground, half on top of the poor guy.

The guy gave him a crazed smile. "Heyya."

"Uhh... hi," the Private said, rolling off the man and hurriedly standing up, a bit embarrassed.

The man stood up and smiled, offering Peck his hand. "I'm Murdock."

Peck took it, feeling oddly... comfortable around him. "Peck."

The first thing that the Private noticed in Murdock was that he wasn't in fatigues. He was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt and khakis. The second thing he noticed was the greasy, unkept blonde hair wasn't short enough for the standard Army haircut. The third thing the private noticed was that Murdock was barefoot.

"They let me wear this because I'm a helicopter pilot," Murdock said, as if reading his thoughts. "And some say I'm insane. But no matter, let's take a walk, shall we?"

Neither of those were good excuses, at least to a lot of COs. He mush have an exceptionally patient and understanding one. Peck was thoroughly puzzled by Murdock, but followed him anyway.

Murdock smiled again. "What's troublin' ya?"

The private shrugged.

"Ah. Don't talk much, do ya, laddie?" Murdock said, changing from a Texan accent to a Scottish one. "Ah have a feeling that ye would, given for someone to hear ye."

Peck bit his tounge, not sure whether to confide in this crazy pilot or not. "I donno. Everything's so messed up."

Murdock kept silent, waiting for Peck to go on.

"I'm one of Heller's recruits," the Private finally said. "What he does- sleep deprivation, starvation, and pushing us to our limit- it reminds me of my childhood."

"How long've you been in there?" He asked.

Peck rubbed my face. "A couple of days? A week? I donno."

Murdock gritted his teeth."You got a looooong ways to go, brother. 'Course, it really depends on whether ya decide to bow 'r not, and how strong ya are. Longest I've ever seen someone last is a month, and even then, he disappeared. Committed suicide."

"Wait, what?" Peck asked. "Who was he?"

"Private by the name of Kendig. He was as stubborn as a mule, didn't break to Heller, didn't even show signs of it. Whenever he was allowed to see other recruits, no matter how battered he was, he would crack jokes about it. Had the toughest hide that I've ever seen yet. One day, he disappeared and shot himself on the obstacle course." Murdock shrugged. "Everythin' was suspicious, ya know? He had everything to live for, why kill himself?"

Peck shivered. "Sometimes people can hide their emotions all too well."

Murdock turned to the private. "This comin' from personal experience?"

Peck bit his lip. "I really need to get to my quarters."

Murdock nodded. "Alright, buddy. If you ever need anybody to talk to, I'll be here... unless I'm off on a flight. Or running from a big, angry mudsucker."

"What?"

"Ah, nevermind," Murdock said with a smile. "You just get back t' your barracks."

The Private nodded to Murdock, then jogged off, alone with his thoughts again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** On behalf of Cat414, I have posted the next chapter today. Two chapters in one day. And yes, I am aware that the chapters are getting longer and longer every time. Hmm. Oh, well.

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Hawthorne held onto the bars above her head with one arm, then twisted her legs above her head and used those to grip the bars. Releasing her grip with her arm, she then twisted backwards and grabbed onto the next bar with her hand, letting her legs unwrap from the bars and leaving her hanging by her hand onto the bars.

This was the military's version of monkey bars, and as Hawthorne only had one good arm, she had to improvise and do some good ol' gymnastics. It wasn't too challenging for her, but she still had to swing back and forth, leaving her broken arm dangling painfully.

She happily jumped off, landing expertly on her feet and giving the infuriated Heller a charming smile.

"Rerun the entire obsitcal course," Heller growled. "Now."

Hawthorne just smiled again, then started the course over with no complaints.

Heller watched as she did everything- perfectly- and wondered how he could break her.

"Heller."

Heller turned to see Hannibal Smith standing there, his typical humored expression present.

"Smith," Heller responded, hate glimmering in his eyes as he took in Hannibal's appearance. "What're you doing here?"

Hannibal continued smiling. "I was just taking a walk around, then noticed a bloody woman doing acrobatics on an obstacle course."

"She fell down and broke her nose," Heller said.

"Huh," Hannibal said. "Could it be that she was pushed down, and somebody broke her nose?"

Heller turned an infuriated glare toward Hannibal. "You trying to say something, Smith?"

"Lieutenant Smith to you, slime ball," Hannibal said, putting a cigar in his mouth. "I'm watching you."

Heller glared at Hannibal's back as the latter left, then turned back to Hawthorne.

She was looking at the Lieutenant as he walked away, and Hannibal gave her a quick wink as he left.

"Hey! Did I say you could stop?" Heller yelled at Hawthorne, who had paused to wink back at Hannibal.

Hawthorne kept moving, seemingly unaware of Heller's comment.

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Peck stepped out of the latrine, thankfully looking much better than he had an hour ago. He felt nicer, too, as he wasn't covered in dirt or grime. Although he still had a bunch of bruises and his ribs were howling blue murder, he felt much better.

He stepped into the Mess, getting in line and hoping for a good meal (or, at least, a relatively good meal).

"Looking for someone, Private?"

Peck jumped at the voice, then turned to see Hannibal Smith. He bristled.

"Buzz off."

Hannibal laughed. "Relax, kid, I just wanted to say hi. And Hawthorne should be here in a minute."

"What? How'd you...?"

Hannibal laughed again. "She's the only person that I can think of that you'd be looking for. Well, good night."

Peck watched as he walked off, feeling slightly creeped out and more aware of his surroundings as he scooped some food into the tin plate that he held.

True to Hannibal's word, Hawthorne soon appeared in the Mess, any trace of blood on her person gone. She soon spotted Peck and limped over.

"Hey," she said, getting behind him in the food line. She happy scooped some glop into her tin.

"Hey," said Peck. "Tomorrow's Sunday. We get that off, so we can't be pushed around by Heller."

Hawthorne smiled. "That'll be really nice, to be able to relax and not be kicked around all day."

Peck nodded as he got to the end of the line. He poured a cup of coffee for himself, then poured one for Hawthorne. "So, what's your first name?"

"Danielle," Hawthorne said as she took the coffee from Peck. "What's yours?"

"Templeton," Peck said.

Danielle smiled as she led Temp over to a table. "You know what nickname would fit you well? Face."

"Face?" Temp asked. "Why?"

Dani shrugged as she led Temp over to a table. "'Cause you're so good at changin' it. Besides, that was the first thing I thought of when I saw you."

"You thought of my face?" Face asked.

She chucked. "No. When I saw you, I thought "face" would be a good nickname for you."

"Oh. Well, Face it is, then."

There was a bit of a pause as they started to eat.

"What do you think of Heller?" Face finally asked Dani.

She shrugged as she swallowed a bite of food. "I try not to think of him too much. But as much as I've figured out, he's just a big ol' ugly guy who's trying to break someone that he's never gonna break."

Face nodded. "I've picked up that much. But do you feel anything... suspicious about him?"

"I donno. My six sense keeps bugging me about him, but it could just be because he has something out for me."

"Have you heard about the Kendig suicide?"

Dani looked up at Face. "No. What happened?"

"Apparently there was a guy named Kendig who was in Heller's Unit. Heller couldn't break him, and a month after he was in the Unit, the kid committed suicide," Face said.

"What if it wasn't a suicide?" Dani asked.

Face nearly spit out his coffee. "Heller wouldn't murder someone!"

Dani shrugged as she took a bite of some yellow meat. "I've seen murders made into the most convincing suicides. And Heller isn't exactly a preschool worker, if you get my drift."

Face shook his head, not convinced. "But there'd be proof of a murder."

Dani looked straight into Face's face. "Not necessarily. If he was unconscious before he died, Heller could've used gloves and force Kendig to pull the trigger."

"There would've been proof if he was drugged or knocked out," Face said.

"I know quite a bit about this case. Kendig was cremated before the morgue was able to investigate his body. A new morgue attendant "mistakenly" cremated him an hour before he would've been looked at."

Face sighed. "That's scary."

Dani shrugged. "If this is Heller's work, he's more likely to kill me that you. I get under his skin much better than you do, so you have no worries."

"Or he could kill both of us," Face muttered, suddenly not feeling very hungry.

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Hannibal quietly watched from his table in the back as Peck and Hawthorne talked. He was itching to talk to Hawthorne, as his message was very important, but Peck and her seemed not ready to finish chatting yet. Hmm.

Hannibal took another drink of his coffee, then watched as both Privates stood up and began to exit. He discreetly followed, abandoning his cup of coffee.

Hawthorne yawned and gestured to her barracks. Peck nodded, then both turned their own separate ways.

_Good. Now I can finally get somewhere._

He started to jog after Hawthorne. There wasn't too much ground between them, and he made it up to the Private's side in little to no time.

"Private," Hannibal said as he began to walk next to Hawthorne. "Nice night, isn't it?"

Hawthorne looked at him with little surprise, but with a pleased look. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Listen, kid, I have something that you might want to know," Hannibal said, stopping.

Hawthorne stood still, waiting. "What?"

"It's about you and Private Peck."

Hawthorne rolled her eyes. "Look, there's nothing going on between us. We're in the same unit, we have the same old nasty CO. That's it."  
Hannibal shook his head. "There's more than you know, kid. I just ran a DNA check, and Templeton Peck is your brother."

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**AN:** So, how's that for a plot twist?


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Ok, so in some stories I have a habit of making the segments shorter when I'm in the climax of the story. Please just bear with me as I switch scenes.

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Hawthorne carefully sneaked around the camp, catlike, but with the deadliness of a wolf. She crept up to a certain tent, then stood, waiting for any noise.

All was silent. She walked into the tent, her eyes probing for anything out of place, then for anything that would give her information.

She spotted a box laying haphazardly on its side under the bed, and she walked over to it, then kneeled dow, pulled it out from under the bed, then opened it.

Her flashlight clicked on, and she looked into the contents.

The box was filled with pictures of young recruits and their journey through Heller's unit, eventually breaking. They all had cocky grins to begin with, then it showed them going through the courses. Through the pictures, their smiles faded, and eventually they had a surrendered posture, giving up to Heller.

There was one recruit who didn't stop smiling, though. He was a young male, smiling as he climbed the obstacle course. Like all of the other recruits, he didn't appear to recognise that there was somebody taking pictures of him, but he looked casual and relaxed anyway.

The next pictures were successive images of him going over the course, then in his barracks, brushing his teeth, pictures of him sleeping and eating.

_Hmm. Heller's a stalker?_

Dani flipped through the pictures, then finally saw one that made her blood boil: the young male recruit holding a gun to his head, obviously dead, and Heller kneeling next to him, smiling like the recruit was his prize trophy.

Dani quickly scanned the next pictures, not too surprised to see that they were images of Face and herself.

Suddenly, the sound of somebody approaching the tent alerted Dani, and she put everything back in its place, turning off her flashlight and hiding in a corner.

As Heller came into view, it became quite obvious that he was talking on a secure phone.

"...yeah, of course," Heller said as he approached his bunk, pulling out the box of photos. He looked like he wasn't very happy. "Fine."

Heller opened the box and pulled out the photos, jumbling them up together, then took a lighter from his pocket and lit the photos on fire.

Dani mentally cursed. All evidence was gone.

"Ok, it's done," Heller said bitterly. "But once I'm done with this job, that's it. I'm retiring with my share of the dough."

There was a long pause as the person on the other side of the phone began to talk, then Heller nodded. "Yes. Of course, he goes first, then I'll waste her. Nobody will be the wiser, I know what to do. Just cremate the bodies as soon as possible, understood?"

With that, Heller ended the phone call and left the tent.

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Hawthorne collapsed into her bunk, numb and confused. Heller was going to kill her and her brother. She laughed at the idea.

I mean, seriously, what were the chances that she would meet her long-lost brother, in the same career, with the same awful CO? An awful CO who had a death wish for both of them?

It was a strange feeling. Now, Hawthorne had something to live for, _someone_ to live for. Before, she wouldn't have cared if Heller killed her (it was the moral of the thing that made her mad) but now, she felt that she had to protect Face and herself, if only for Face's sake.

Hannibal insisted that she not tell Face that they were siblings, although she wanted to. He didn't say why, but she knew that it was important not to. For some reason, Dani trusted Hannibal like she hadn't trusted anyone before.

As tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, counted sheep (as dumb as the idea sounds, it had worked before).

Finally, she fell into a restless sleep, one that was plagued with nightmares of Heller murdering Face.

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Sunday passed quickly for Face and Dani. They spent the day by eating, taking naps, and talking. Thankfully, Dani was a great con man (or woman) and Face never seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong.

Monday morning came early, and as soon as Face and Dani had gone to the mess for breakfast, they were dragged out by Heller and ordered to- separately- run five miles before returning to the dreaded obstacle course.

Dani quickly ran the five miles and began to climb onto the course, when she looked down from the ropes and saw Face laying curled up onto the ground, getting repeatedly kicked by Heller. Blood had already stained his clothes, and Dani could tell that Heller wasn't nearly done.

Something took over Dani, and before she knew what was happening, she had attacked Heller and broken his nose. She repeatedly punched him before she was pulled off by somebody much stronger.

She let out a string of curses as her arms were pinned behind her back, then, as she was forced face-first into the ground, she recognised the feeling of handcuffs biting into her wrists.

She was going to the brig.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **To any readers out there, I just wanna say that there's going to be two more chapters after this. The next chapter contains the conclusion, then the chapter after that is a Bonus Chapter.

And I apologize that this is such a short chapter. I'll give you a longer one tomorrow (or, possibly tonight, if I'm really bored).

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Dani winced as the _slam_ of the bars drove a shiver up her spine.

She had been in the brig for over two hours, locked in a cell. She had spent the most of that time resting, thinking, and planning an escape.

To her surprise, the guard took her out of her cell and told her that she had a visitor. There was no way that Heller would let Face off the hook for anything (especially now that he was going to kill him), and that only left Hannibal.

True to her guess, Hannibal was there, sitting on a bench. He looked royally ticked off, and even now, he was glaring at Dani.

The guard led Hawthorne to a bench that sat across from Hannibal, and she sat, not in the least bothered by his heated glare.

Once the guard left, Hannibal started to speak. "What were you thinking? You never attack your CO!"

Dani squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her face. "Hannibal."

"Yeah?"

"Promise me, that if anything happens to me, that you'll take Peck into your Unit," she said. "Please."

Hannibal frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you anything, because I can't pull you into it," Dani said. "Just... I don't know. Keep Peck safe for me. Promise me that you will."

Hannibal paused, then nodded. "Ok. I will."

Dani nodded, and her composure softened. "You know that I wouldn't kill anyone unless I absolutely had to, right?"

"Yeah," Hannibal said softly. "But what are you getting at?"

"I have to do what I have to do," Dani said. "And I'm sorry that I have to do this to you."

Before Hannibal had figured out what was going on, he was out cold.

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Face marched forward, unsure of what was going on.

He was supposedly going on a five mile hike, but he sensed something bad was going on. And he was scared.

"Hold up, Peck," Heller said, and Face slowed down, turning around to face Heller, who was... smiling? "It was a pleasure, Peck," Heller said, walking towards Face. "You're a strong kid. But not nearly strong enough."

He felt the prick of a needle in his arm, then fell unconscious.

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Dani chambered a bullet into her rifle, then looked down the scope at Heller, who had knocked Peck unconscious with something from a needle.

Heller pulled on some latex gloves, then took a handgun from the holster at his side. He placed it in Peck's hand, putting Peck's finger over the trigger, then placing his finger over Peck's. Heller moved the gun next to Peck's head, then began to squeeze the trigger.

Dani fired, and Heller's neck broke as the bullet sliced through the vertebrae, killing him.

Dani left the gun where it was, then ran back to her barracks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** As stated in the previous chapter, I'm bored. And I must go make pancakes. Please enjoy! [Not the pancakes, the story.]

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Face opened his eyes, looking around and realizing that he was laying on the ground. Two paramedics knelt over him, doing whatever paramedics do.

A bodybag lay on the ground next to him, and blood was everywhere. Face began to feel naucious, then caught sight of Hannibal hugging a handcuffed Dani. Dani whispered something into Hannibal's ear, then gave Face a parting look as the MPs took her away.

_Wait? What's going on?_

Face began to struggle away from the medics, furiously trying to sit up. The medics began to push him back down, but he had to get up. He needed to.

An oxygen mask was forced over his face, and another medic joined the current ones in an effort to keep Face down.

Hannibal hastily walked over, and Face tensed but stopped struggling.

One of the medics took off the oxygen mask, and Face frantically looked up at Hannibal. "What's going on?"

Hannibal bit his lib. "Dani was arrested for killing Heller. He was trying to kill you, kid, but there's no proof. She saved your life."

Face slowly sat up, and the medics allowed him to. "I don't remember anything."

Hannibal gave Face an envelope. "Here. This is from Dani, it's to you."

Face slowly opened the envolope, then unfolded the letter.

Face,

By the time you're reading this, I've already been arrested. I killed Heller, but not out of cold blood, I killed him because he was trying to kill you. There's one man who can prove that what I did was right, and as soon as I escape from these clowns called the military police, I'll get him and bring him to the cops. If you must know, he works at the morgue.

I asked Hannibal to take you into his Unit. I know you guys aren't on very good terms, but you can trust him. I trust him with you, and that's why I asked. You'll get along great with his guys, I know you will.

Face, I'm going to let you in on something that you can't tell anyone, ever: I am your sister and you are my brother. We had the same Mom. The only person who knows other than me is Hannibal, and like I said, you can trust him.

Don't think about me. You can't waste your time brooding over someone that you only knew a week, and I don't want you doing that.

Listen to these words, though: I will find you. You will not expect it. You will not see me until I show myself, and you may be a bit freaked out at my timing. You're never alone, I am always wathing you- tracking you, following you. You have not lost me forever, no matter what anyone tells you, never believe that.

I hope you never know what it's like to live on the run. It seriously stinks, and it's really toilsome, making sure that people can't find you. Running is awful for your heath, too. Consider yourself lucky that you don't have to fun.

Your sister,

-Danielle

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_15 Years later_

Face reread the well-worn letter, delicately running his thumb over his sister's signature. He still missed her, but had long stopped looking for her.

He had to snicker at the last paragraph, about him "hopefully never know what it's like to be on the run." He knew it all too well. She was right, of course, it did stink. And he was so worn out by it. He wanted to rest, but he knew that he'd never get it, just like when he was under Heller's thumb.

She did it, though. After she escaped from prison, she found the man who worked at the mourge and found enough evidence to convict him. He's curently residing in a prison, and Dani was cleared from "murdering" Heller, it was put under self-defense instead. She still was on the run for escaping from prison (twice) and assaulting an officer.

Face folded the letter back up and laid down on his bed, contemplating the future as the hours passed by.

Suddenly, the door to his room opened and Hannibal entered. "Face, there's military police outside. We need to leave, fast."

Face jumped out of bed and threw his meager possessions together. "Is it Lynch?"

"I don't know. But we need to get out of here, fast."

Face grabbed his suitcase, following Hannibal down the exquisite staircase of the hotel. He had scammed four nice rooms there after completing a mission, and now they were going to have to get out.

Murdock and B.A. joined them at the foot of the stairs, then they walked nonchalantly to the foyer.

_Oh, no._

The military police had blocked all of the exits and were looking at everyone's faces. It was Lynch.

The Team bolted to the nearest exit, the military on their heels. They were out of the building and nearly to their van, when B.A. took a round in the leg.

It was hard going to get him up, let alone drag him to the van. Face provided cover while Murdock and Hannibal dragged B.A. to the van.

Face knew he was shot before he could even feel the pain- he heard the gun go off above the rest, and he felt the impact of the bullet shattering his shoulder as he collapsed to the ground.

"Go, Hannibal!" Face yelled, wincing at the agonising pain in his shoulder.

The rest of his Team drove away, and he was left on the ground, writhing in pain as the MPs surrounded him.

Suddenly, all of the MPs dropped, and a lone form approached Face, a needle in hand.

That was the last thing Face remembered before passing out.

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Face groaned, his pain down to a dull ache, his confusion arousing.

"Shh," a soft but commanding voice said as something wet brushed over his forehead.

Face obeyed, his eyes slowly cracking open to reveal Dani sitting above him, rinsing out a wet washcloth an putting it on his forehead.

"D... Dani," Face croaked, his throat dry.

She gave him a warm smile. "Heyya, Face. I'm back."


	10. Chapter 10

BONUS CHAPTER! This takes place the night Hawthorne was arrested.

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Face clutched his duffel bag, following Hannibal across the camp.

Night had fallen. It was a little eerie, but Face almost liked it.

Face, from the appearance and disappearance of his sister, had changed from an extremely scared and protective dog to a more mature man. He wasn't as hostile anymore, and he got along better with others- although he was still wary of people.

He had been transferred to Hannibal's unit, and although he still wasn't on the best terms with Hannibal, he trusted that Dani had put him into the right hands. Or, at least, he hoped so.

"You get this bunk," Hannibal said as he gestured to a bunk in a tent. There were two other bunks in the room, so Face figured that two other teammates on the unit besides Hannibal (Hannibal had his own tent).

"You'll meet your teammates shortly," Hannibal said, as if reading his mind. "I told them to meet me up here, but I don't know what's taking them-"

Hannibal was interrupted by shouts of "he's gonna kill me!" and "I'm gonna kill you, fool!"

"-so long," Hannibal finished as Murdock raced into the tent and hid behind Face. An angry African-American man stalked in after him, aggressively staring at Murdock through Face.

Face smiled nervously and glanced behind him, not quite understanding what was going on.

Hannibal looked like he was at the end of his rope. "B.A. Murdock."

Both seemed to forget about their disputes as they saluted and stood at attention (Face had to move sideways to let Murdock in view of his commander).

"What'd Murdock do?" Hannibal asked quietly, rubbing his face as if he was accustomed to this.

"The crazy fool put a lizard on me, sir," Bosco said, giving a sideways glare at Murdock. "The fool knows I hate lizards."

Face could tell that Murdock was doing his best not to smile. "Sir, it was a cute li'l baby lizard, sir. And I was getting back at B.A. for throwing me-"

"Alright, alright!" Hannibal hurriedly cut Murdock off as Face clutched his duffel bag a bit closer and gave a worried look to his boots.

"Peck," said Hannibal, "This is Bosco "B.A." Baracus and H.M. Murdock. Both of you, this if Templeton Peck. Do you have a preferred nickname?"

Face shifted a little. "Faceman. Or Face."

Murdock nodded his head at the choice, and B.A. just grunted, which was about as close to approval as he'd get.

"Well, then, Face," Hannibal said, "welcome to our Unit."

Face looked around and smiled. He might just be able to get used to it here.

**_~The End~_**


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